


Castiel, Genie of the Ring

by TardisIsTheOnlyWayToTravel



Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU, Angels are Dicks, Angst, Castiel is a genie, Castiel is irritable, Crack, Dean isn't a hunter, Fairy Tales, Humour, M/M, Romance, Sam tells embarrassing stories about Dean, Snark, True Love, Wishes, brief mention of past consent issues, grumpy angel in a trenchcoat, idek, magic rings, what is this i do not even
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-25
Updated: 2012-02-25
Packaged: 2017-10-31 17:24:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,053
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/346587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TardisIsTheOnlyWayToTravel/pseuds/TardisIsTheOnlyWayToTravel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>So it was a really cool ring, okay? It wasn't like Dean <i>knew</i> that it came with a grumpy guy in a trenchcoat bound to grant Dean's every wish.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Castiel, Genie of the Ring

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Scheherazade of the Super Eight](https://archiveofourown.org/works/305603) by [pyrebi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pyrebi/pseuds/pyrebi). 



> Warning: contains enslavement, obviously, and a brief mention of past consent issues.
> 
> So, I was reading an awesome SPN fic based on _1001 Arabian Nights_ , which got me thinking about similar stories and myths, and suddenly I got this image of Castiel as a really hostile, resentful genie that just needed to be written.

* * *

**Castiel, Genie of the Ring**

* * *

So, it all started with the ring in the pawnshop window.

Now, Dean wasn’t normally into jewellery. He was not. But it was a really nice ring, okay? It was tarnished silver, shaped like a dragon curled around something, so that when you put it on it looked like you had a tiny dragon wrapped around your finger.

It looked like a mean little fucker, too, with shadowed indentations for eyes and sleek, sharp wings and snout that overall gave it a sinister, dangerous look.

Dean loved it on sight.

He ducked closer to the window, squinting down at the price tag, expecting something hideously expensive – but the price was actually quite cheap, considering that it was the coolest piece of jewellery that Dean had ever seen.

So of course Dean bought the frigging thing. Who wouldn’t?

It’s not like Dean _knew_ there was a grumpy guy bound to carry out his every whim attached to it.

If Dean _had_ known, he might have… okay, no, fuck it, he would have done the exact same thing, because who the hell in their right mind wouldn’t want a genie? 

** \- - - - - - **

** \- - - - - - **

Anyway, Dean took the ring home. It wasn’t exactly the cleanest ring ever, or anything, so Dean figured he’d give it a quick rinse under the tap in case the previous owner ha a virulent disease or something.

And then, logically enough, Dean grabbed a tissue and started to rub it dry.

That, of course, was when things turned _weird_.

There was suddenly a guy in a trenchcoat standing in the room with him.

“I am Castiel, Genie of the Ring,” the guy intoned. He looked bored. “What is your bidding, Master?”

“ _What the fuck?!_ ” Dean blurted.

The dude turned unimpressed blue eyes on him.

“I believe I just told you.”

He had a voice kind of like gravel in a coffee grinder, and screw Sam’s childhood experiments for letting Dean know what that sounded like.

“You’ve got to be shitting me,” Dean said disbelievingly.

The guy just shot him a look. It suggested that right now the guy was wondering what he’d ever done to deserve getting saddled with an imbecile like Dean. 

Oddly enough, it made the whole thing suddenly seem more believable.

“Holy shit,” said Dean, realising that apparently, he now had an actual, real-life genie in his possession – and okay, everything Dean had ever learnt from television told him that said genie really ought to be a hot chick without proper clothes on and not a dude in a trenchcoat who kind of needed a shave, but even so it was pretty sweet. “You’re serious.”

Trenchcoat guy just stared at him, like he was waiting for Dean to say something worth responding to.

“Um,” Dean said. “Okay. Wow. Uh, are there any rules to this whole thing? Like, is it a three-wishes deal, and then no more wishes?”

“Unfortunately, no,” the guy replied. “I’m bound to follow your wishes for as long as the ring is in your possession.”

“Oh.” Dean looked down at the ring. The fact that it was a magic ring brought it up several awesomeness points, he felt. “”This is a bad-ass ring, dude.”

The guy looked withering. Clearly not as much of a fan of the ring as Dean was, and okay. Fair enough.

“As for any other rules,” the genie continued, “I can’t bring back the dead, I can’t kill, and I can’t alter people’s emotions or opinions, do anything that alters the fabric of time and space, etcetera. Basically, I can do anything else. I’ll let you know if you attempt to wish for anything outside my limitations.”

“Wow. Okay then. Um, I sort of didn’t catch your name, before.”

The dude looked put-upon, like he was wondering what kind of a douche forgets the name of _the person they own._

“Sorry,” Dean added apologetically, feeling like a dick.

“I am Castiel.”

“Castiel, huh? Weird name. I’m Dean.”

Dean was treated to another withering stare.

Castiel’s response was utterly flat.

“I’m _thrilled_.”

Yeah, so on the one hand Dean was the proud new owner of his very own genie, and on the other, the genie happened to be a bitchy guy in a trenchcoat who clearly thought that Dean was a moron. 

There was a downside to everything.

** \- - - - - - **

** \- - - - - - **

Over the next few weeks, Dean became accustomed to Castiel’s presence.

He felt really awkward asking for stuff at first, particularly since Castiel acted like he’d rather stab out his own eye than do anything for Dean, ever. But he started to get used to it, and after a while even Castiel’s impatient eyeballing didn’t really bother him. 

What Dean hadn’t expected, at all, was that even though his newfound companion clearly didn’t want to be there, Dean felt a lot less lonely having Castiel around.

Dean found himself talking to Castiel a lot, even though Castiel didn’t do much besides stare at Dean like he was wondering why he was listening to Dean when Dean talked about nothing but boring shit.

“God, he’s such an asshole,” Dean noted, watching some celebrity on some show that Dean wasn’t actually _watching_ , but had just landed on temporarily in between changing channels. “I mean, just look at that obnoxious smirk. It makes me want to punch him in the face.”

“I’ve noticed that lots of people seem to make you want to punch them in the face,” observed Castiel from where he was slouched at other end of the couch, frowning at the TV screen. Originally he’d tried standing around with this weird mix of servility and fuck-you attitude, but Dean had told him to make himself at home, so now as long as he had no orders, Castiel basically hung around doing whatever. “I think you have anger management issues.”

“Fuck you, dude, my anger management is fine. Pass me another beer, would you?”

Castiel grudgingly got up and walked to the fridge to get Dean another beer.

Dean heard the fridge door open, and the clink of cans.

“Feel free to grab one yourself, if you want,” he called.

There was a pause. A moment later there was more clinking, and the sound of the fridge door shutting.

Castiel sat back down on his end of the couch and silently passed Dean his beer.

“Thanks, man.” Dean popped the tab and took a gulp of beer.

Castiel was frowning down at his own can, with a strange sort of expression that Dean couldn’t categorise.

“What’s up, Cas?”

Castiel glanced up.

“What?”

“Is there a reason why you’re staring so hard at your beer? Because alcohol does not hold all the answers, no matter what anyone tells you.”

Castiel’s face twitched into something sort of annoyed, but still frowning in a way that Dean didn’t recognise.

“I have never had beer before.”

Dean turned to stare at him.

“Wait, seriously?”

Castiel glared at him. Dean was pretty sure by now that this meant _fuck off, you’re making me feel embarrassed._

“I have no need of food or drink, Dean,” Castiel said, scowling like a thunderstorm. “My previous masters saw no reason to give me something that I didn’t need.”

Dean thought about that.

Castiel drank his beer, and made weird faces like he wasn’t sure how he felt about the whole experience.

“Your previous masters were a bunch of dicks,” Dean decided, picking up the remote and changing the channel again, because absolutely any time spent watching Gabriel Whatshisface was too much time, in his opinion.

Castiel offered no comment, but out of the corner of his eye Dean saw the corner of his mouth curl up in something that might, just possibly, have been a very slight smile.

** \- - - - - - **

** \- - - - - - **

After that, whenever Dean wished up some food or beer or junk food, he made sure to ask,

“Hey, you want some, Cas?” or “dude, you should try some of this, it’s awesome.”

Castiel didn’t always eat it, but sometimes he did. More than once Castiel gave Dean a long, considering stare before he answered, like he was wondering what was going on in Dean’s brain.

The fact that Dean actually treated Castiel like a person – and okay, yeah, like a person Dean told what to do and expected him to do it, but _still_ – seemed to throw him. Dean didn’t want to trash-talk a bunch of people he’d never met and never would, but boy, Castiel’s previous masters were clearly a bunch of unpleasant bastards.

** \- - - - - - **

** \- - - - - - **

Life with Castiel was comfortable. 

Dean didn’t actually wish for much. Like, he wished for small things a lot, like beer and pizza and spare cash, and for his neighbour to stop playing fucking _Celine Dion_ all the time. But the big stuff, like a million bucks or a mansion? What the hell would Dean do with any of that? 

For the most part, Dean liked his life the way it was, and none of his wishes changed that.

“I don’t understand you sometimes,” Castiel said one day, out of the blue.

Dean turned and gave Castiel his full attention, because it was rare for Castiel to randomly volunteer something that wasn’t in response to something Dean had said, even if it was just a remark that the rain was depressing.

“Well, I never understand you, so clearly you’re doing better than me,” Dean commented. “What do you mean?”

Castiel gave Dean one of his _I am searching your soul_ stares.

“I could grant any wish you wanted,” said Castiel. “I could make you rich beyond the dreams of avarice, more famous than anyone on the planet, or the most powerful man of this nation. Yet you’re content with wishes for food and opportunities to pick up women, when you could have anything.”

Dean didn’t respond for a while.

“I guess I’m happy with what I’ve got, Cas. I mean, come on, would any of that stuff actually make me happier? All it’d do is make me richer or more powerful, and that’s not the same thing. I’m good.”

Castiel looked contemplative.

“You’re surprisingly wise, for a man likely to die from either blocked arteries or cirrhosis of the liver.”

“Funny, Cas,” Dean said flatly. “And I wish I was in perfect health,” he added as an afterthought. “No matter what I eat or drink.”

“As you wish.”

** \- - - - - - **

** \- - - - - - **

Three weeks before Christmas, Dean got a call from his little brother.

At the end of it he hung up, smiling .

“Who was that?” Castiel inquired, in the middle of arranging a vase of flowers on the table.

Personally Dean thought flower-arranging was kind of gay, but Castiel thought they were pretty, so you know, Dean wasn’t going to judge.

“My brother, Sam,” Dean said, still smiling. “He and his wife, Jess, they’ve invited me over for Christmas.”

“I see.” Castiel didn’t look up from his flowers.

“Anyway, you want to come?”

“What?” Castiel did look up this time, blinking.

“For Christmas,” Dean repeated.

Castiel stared at him with the strangest expression.

“You’re asking me if I want to accompany you to your family celebration.”

“Yeah. I mean, if you don’t want to, it’s fine, but you know, if you do, I’ll just tell them you’re my roommate. No biggie.”

Castiel was still watching him oddly. Sometimes trying to have a conversation with Castiel was like trying to communicate with a martian.

“Yes,” Castiel said slowly, like he was sounding out the word. He was still looking at Dean like the two of them were from different planets. “Yes, I would like that very much, Dean.”

“Awesome,” Dean grinned.

Castiel went back to the vase of flowers with a deep furrow between his brows.

Dean didn’t call him on it. He knew being treated like a human being still took Castiel by surprise, sometimes.

Hopefully, Christmas would be an enjoyable experience for him. God knew the guy seemed to have had few enough of those.

** \- - - - - - **

** \- - - - - - **

Christmas morning, Dean and Castiel drove (well, Dean drove, while Castiel sat in the passenger seat and stared out the windows like the world was a strange and exotic thing; Dean made a mental note to take the poor guy on more trips outside the apartment) down to Sam and Jess’ place.

Castiel seemed unusually cheerful and relaxed. He was actually smiling a little, his body all loose lines of trenchcoat instead of rigid uptight ones.

Dean congratulated himself on inviting the genie along. Dude actually looked _content_ , for once.

There was an Asia cassette in the tape player, and Dean turned it on and sang along to the songs unashamedly. Castiel just sent him occasional, amused glances in between long stares out the window.

Dean was having none of it.

“C’mon, dude, Asia rocks,” Dean cajoled. “I know you know the lyrics, Cas, don’t deny it.” He smiled encouragingly. “ _Now, sure as the sun will cross the sky, the lie is over…_ ”

Castiel steadfastly refused to sing, despite Dean getting more and more goofy in his efforts to persuade the guy. Castiel did hum along, though, so Dean figured that was close enough and counted it as a triumph.

When they got to Sam and Jess’ place Castiel stared at the house curiously as they walked up the front path, trailing a little behind Dean as he strode up to the front door and rang the bell.

Thirty seconds later the door was opened by Dean’s brother, beaming widely.

“Dean!” Sam exclaimed, immediately pulling Dean into a hug, which turned into a kind of impromptu wrestle as Dean tried to squeeze the hell out of his little brother, and Sam immediately proved that he wasn’t so little anymore and that maybe Dean should quit before he lost all dignity. 

Dean let Sam go. Sam did the same, and the two brothers stepped back a little to grin at each other.

“Oh, and hey, this is Cas,” Dean said, remembering himself, and putting a hand on Castiel’s shoulder to pull him forward. “Cas, this is my brother Sam.”

“Hi,” Sam greeted Castiel.

Castiel stared up at him, frowning, and Dean just _knew_ that something odd was going to come out of his mouth.

“You’re intimidatingly tall.”

Sam just laughed.

“Yeah, I get that a lot.” He offered a hand, which Castiel shook without hesitation. “So, you’re Dean’s roommate? I didn’t even know he had one, until Dean asked if you could come for Christmas.”

“Dean is uncommunicative unless the conversation involves food, rock music, or things that annoy him,” Castiel observed dryly. 

“Hey!” Dean protested.

Sam grinned wickedly.

“I see you know him well. Come on, come on through, Jess is just in the kitchen – I, uh, had a, um, slight accident with the turkey, so – yeah, she’s just dealing with that. Um.”

Dean snorted at Sam’s sheepish expression, because Sam’s _incidents_ when it came to cooking were pretty legendary. They hadn’t been so bad since Sam first moved in with Jess – she tended to act as a supervisor and make sure that Sam’s enthusiasm and/or ineptitude didn’t get the better of him – but even so, Sam still managed to do some weird things with food, sometimes.

“What the hell did you do?” Dean asked.

Sam’s forehead wrinkled.

“I’m not really sure? But Jess whacked me on the ass with a spatula and told me to get out of her kitchen, so, you know, nothing good.”

“Dude.” Dean shook his head. “No one else I know embodies the words _epic fail_ like you.”

Castiel just followed Sam and Dean through into the dining room, looking sort of awkward, like he wasn’t sure what he was supposed to be doing.

Dean stepped closer to him as they went through the doorway.

“Relax,” he told Castiel under his breath. “You’ll be fine.”

** \- - - - - - **

** \- - - - - - **

Dean wished he could smother himself right now. No, wait, strike that, he wished he could smother _Sam_.

“Well,” Sam drawled, smirking, “there was the time Karen Osmond’s hair got stuck in Dean’s zipper.”

Dean sat upright like he’d been shocked.

“Oh, Sam, come on!” he protested. He could feel his expression morphing into the kind of horror usually reserved for something like finding a facehugger in your wardrobe. “You promised you’d never tell that story!”

“This sounds promising,” Castiel said pensively.

Jess was already laughing too hard to reply.

“Uh, actually Dean, the way I remember it is that you said, ‘ _we will never speak of this again’_ and then stormed off in a haze of mortification before I had a chance to tell you that no, I was _never_ forgetting this, _ever_.”

Castiel was actually _smiling_ , properly, and while Dean was glad to know that the genie was in fact capable of actual genuine smiling after all, he kind of wished that it wasn’t at his expense. 

_ Really _ kind of wished.

“Go on, Sam!” Jess laughed. “I want to hear this story!”

Sam smirked even more.

Dean groaned.

“Ugh, God, I hate you all, you hear me? _All of you_.”

Jess patted his shoulder with an expression of pretend sympathy.

“Oh, poor Dean. I’m sure you’ll live it down eventually.”

“I don’t think so,” Sam gleefully disagreed. “You see, there I was, studying in my room with the door firmly shut – Dean’s girlfriend had been coming over a lot at the time, and let’s just say that some of the noises coming out of Dean’s room, when she was over? Were quite frankly disturbing.”

“I hate you. Seriously, Sam.”

“Anyway, so – there I was, quietly studying away, when I suddenly heard this scream. Definitely not the happy kind, either. So, I left the safe, non-scarring environment of my room and gathering my courage, opened Dean’s door. And there was Dean,” Sam started to laugh as he spoke, struggling to get the words out around his laughter, “standing in the middle of the room cursing, while Karen was on her knees in front of him, her hair caught in his zipper.”

Dean just sat there glowering, wondering what the hell he had ever done to deserve this kind of torture, while Sam and Jess laughed almost too hard to breathe, and Castiel looked like he was trying really, really hard to keep all his laughter on the inside, if the way his eyes were bright with mirth was any indication.

“I had to get a pair of scissors,” Sam snickered, “and actually _cut her free_. And then she left crying because this big chunk of her hair was missing. That was when Dean told me that we were never speaking of this again and stomped off back to his room.”

There was more laughter at Dean’s expense. 

“Oh, Dean,” Jess giggled, shaking her head helplessly.

“I’m impressed,” Castiel told Dean seriously, his eyes still shining with amusement.

“Fuck you, Cas, okay?” Dean snapped. “It was pretty much the most embarrassing thing that has ever happened to me. And like, for the next _week_ , any time I saw _any_ of the girls in Karen’s classes, they all burst into giggles the moment they clapped eyes on me.”

“Whereas _I_ ,” Sam pointed out smugly, “was held up as an example of the kind of nice boy their younger sisters should be dating. I got twice as many Valentines that year.”

“You’re a dick,” Dean told his brother.

Sam just raised his eyebrows and smiled, still smug and amused.

“So, Cas,” he turned to Castiel, smirking, “any interesting stories you want to share?”

Castiel’s eyes lit with mischief, and his expression turned sly.

“Well –”

“Dude, shut up!” Dean groaned.

Instantly Castiel went silent and subdued, his eyes shuttering.

Dean realised that he’d just accidentally given Castiel an order he was bound to follow, which was the _last_ thing he’d intended to do. _Shit._

“I mean,” he added hastily, “feel free to talk if you want to, Cas, but the idea of you telling embarrassing stories about me makes me uncomfortable.”

Castiel stared at Dean, his expression open and vulnerable in a way that made Dean want to curse himself and wrap the poor genie in a hug, personal space be damned.

Sam and Jess exchanged concerned glances at the way things had suddenly turned weird.

“Thank you, Dean,” Castiel said finally. “But if it makes you uncomfortable, I will refrain.”

He gave Dean a fragile, tentative smile, but it blossomed into something brighter when Dean smiled helplessly back, trying to ignore the look of dawning realisation on Sam’s face, because Sam was a nosy little know-it-all, dammit.

“Right,” said Sam, looking between the two of them with keen eyes, and Dean knew that sometime in the near future he was going to get a really awkward phone call from Sam about what was up with the two of them. “Um –”

“Would anyone else like dessert?” Jess asked before Sam could say anything, smiling sweetly when Sam frowned at her. “I think we should have dessert. Sam, help me get the dessert from the kitchen.”

Dean silently gave thanks for a sister-in-law who knew when to leave well enough alone.

** \- - - - - - **

** \- - - - - - **

“So,” Dean asked Castiel that night, when they were back home. “You had a good time, right?”

“Yes.” Castiel’s eyes were wide, and almost terrified, but nonetheless determined. Dean had no idea what that was about. “I had the best time I’ve had since I was made a genie.”

Dean’s brow furrowed as Castiel stepped closer, still wearing that weird expression.

“Then why –”

And Castiel put his hands on each side of Dean’s face and tilted up his own to kiss him.

Dean was confused as all hell and pretty startled, but he was also human, okay? Which was why instead of asking what was going on, his first reaction was to haul Castiel in close and kiss the shit out of him.

Castiel didn’t seem to mind, pressing up against Dean and yanking on his collar in a demanding way, and somehow Dean ended up with Castiel pinned against the wall and the discovery that underneath the bulky trenchcoat the genie was surprisingly fit.

But Dean’s brain had had time to reboot from it’s mental BSoD, and –

Dean pulled his mouth away from Castiel’s neck and took half a step back, heart pounding.

He probably looked pretty wild-eyed, but considering what had just taken place, dammit, he was _entitled_.

Castiel made an irritated noise, a sort of growly noise that made Dean want to crowd him back in against the wall again and – 

“Cas?” Dean asked, breathing hard. “You sure?”

Castiel gave him an intense stare, eyes dark with want, and oh _fuck_ Dean hoped he was sure.

Castiel grabbed Dean’s collar and pulled with freakish ease, so that Dean stumbled forward into him.

“I’ve done this enough times without wanting to,” Castiel rasped into Dean’s ear, and that was a _really_ disturbing statement that Dean wanted to follow up on but Castiel continued talking, “to know that someone _I_ want and who won’t use me as a self-gratification device isn’t going to come along again. I’m _sure_ , Dean.”

Staring down into Castiel’s fierce, brittle gaze, Dean couldn’t – didn’t want to – refuse him.

Because in all this time, how often had Castiel been able to _choose?_ Dean wasn’t going to take that from him, even if part of him insisted it was the honourable thing to do.

So, instead, Dean pulled him close, determined to do whatever Castiel wanted _him_ to do, for once.

** \- - - - - - **

** \- - - - - - **

Afterwards, Castiel didn’t move from his position next to Dean, and Dean didn’t ask him to.

He wrapped an arm around him instead, holding the genie close, wondering when the last time was that Castiel had done this, with anyone. The last time that Castiel had done _any_ of the things that ordinary people took for granted, the basic, desperate things that people needed just to keep going in this crapsack world.

He wondered how long it took without those things to make a little kindness enough to break you.

He pressed a kiss to the back of Castiel’s neck, and when he was sure that the genie had drifted off to sleep, he whispered,

“I wish you were free to make your own choices, Cas.”

** \- - - - - - **

** \- - - - - - **

When Dean woke up, he knew immediately that he was alone in the bed.

And because the world wasn’t merciful enough to give him one, kind moment of sleep-induced temporary amnesia before it all came rushing back, he also instantly knew why.

Dean slowly sat up.

“Cas?” he called, even though he knew there would be no reply. “Castiel?”

The rest of the apartment proved to be empty, and even though Dean had expected it to be, the reality of that fact was still… painful.

After a while Dean went out and had some breakfast, even though he didn’t feel hungry at all, and if he maybe cried a few manly tears when he found Castiel’s trenchcoat still in a pile on the floor from the night before, well, anyone who might have had something to say about that could just go fuck themselves.

** \- - - - - - **

** \- - - - - - **

The days seemed to go by agonisingly slowly without Castiel, and Dean’s apartment seemed a lot more empty than before.

It also seemed a lot lonelier.

The trenchcoat was folded carefully and stored at the back of the wardrobe. Dean kept wearing the ring, though. He told himself that it didn’t mean a damn thing.

** \- - - - - - **

** \- - - - - - **

And then, one day, Dean was no longer alone.

“Hello, Dean.”

The gravelly voice was unmistakeable.

Dean spun around, his heart thumping wildly in surprise and sudden hope.

Castiel was standing in the middle of Dean’s living room. The first thing that Dean noticed was that he looked happy. 

The second was the pair of enormous white wings the stretched out from his shoulders and folded neatly behind him.

Dean gaped.

“You’re…”

“An angel, yes,” Castiel allowed. He was smiling, watching Dean’s surprised-fish expression with what was undoubtedly amusement. “Before the last regime change, I was… not entirely liked by those who them came into power. Once I was freed, I found that the balance of power had changed again, and it took me some time to get all the paperwork sorted out so that I could come back.”

“Come… back?” Dean echoed, like a complete moron.

Castiel’s bright eyes dimmed a little.

“Yes. If my presence is still welcome here.”

And Dean might have been in a state of shock-induced idiocy still, but not so much that he didn’t realise that Castiel had somehow grabbed the wrong end of the stick and somehow thought that _Dean_ might have a reason not to want _him_. 

Which was the dumbest idea Dean had known in his life, and obviously he needed to make that clear to Castiel.

Dean surged forward to kiss him with such desperate enthusiasm that the two of them went stumbling back and fell right through the thin plaster wall, even as Castiel threw his wings out in a last-ditch effort to keep his balance.

Castiel looked up at Dean with an exasperated, bewildered stare while Dean looked sheepishly back, and plaster dust and bits of wall slowly settled down around and on top of them.

“A yes would have sufficed,” Castiel noted dryly, although his lips were faintly twitching.

Dean cleared his throat, pinking in embarrassment.

“Uh, yeah. I can, um, see that. I kind of missed you.”

And then, because Dean was still lying on top of Castiel and surrounded by wings but Castiel didn’t seem to mind, he reached out a hand to run one finger curiously down one of the nearby wing-feathers.

Castiel made a little growly noise in his throat, and Dean stilled, watching him, a little worried that maybe he’d crossed some sort of boundary that he didn’t know Castiel had, because obviously genie-Castiel hadn’t had any boundaries he was allowed to enforce, but angel-Castiel was probably quite a different matter.

Somehow, in between blinks, Dean went from lying on the floor on top of Castiel to standing up and being hemmed in by wings, and _oh_. Okay. 

That was all right, then. Fantastic.

Dean eyed the angel.

“You realise I’m going to have no sense of boundaries, right?”

“I’m aware of that,” Castiel calmly agreed. He didn’t look away from Dean. “But you are a fast learner.”

“Uh-huh.” Dean gazed back at Castiel. “When you said paperwork, what exactly did you mean?”

“I am now officially your guardian angel,” Castiel replied. “Unofficially, I’m pretty much free to do as I like down here.” He paused a moment. “It was generally agreed that if anyone deserves a vacation, it’s me. No one currently in power had any idea what had become of me until I was freed. It was also felt that as you were the only human who made the decision to free me in six thousand years –”

Dean couldn’t hold in the horrified noise that escaped him at the fact that Castiel had spent six thousand years as a genie, but Castiel kept talking like it was unimportant.

“– of abject slavery, you deserved some reward.”

Dean just stared, completely aghast, trying to imagine _six thousand years_ of total slavery, and failing.

Castiel watched him with warm eyes.

“I only did it because I love you, Cas,” he said honestly, unable to take the way that Castiel was looking at him, because he wasn’t any kind of hero, okay? He was a selfish bastard, honestly.

But Castiel just smiled at him peacefully.

“I know, Dean. But you wouldn’t have loved me if you hadn’t been willing to treat me humanely in the first place.”

Dean thought about that.

Well… yeah.

“I’m now going to kiss you,” Castiel informed Dean gravely, “since your last effort to do so was a colossal, perhaps even epic failure, and evidently your ability to kiss someone without major incident is seriously lacking.”

Dean snorted in indignation and was about to argue the point, but he was suddenly held in close by a wall of feathers and Castiel was kissing him, and you know. It didn’t really seem important anymore, considering the circumstances.

** \- - - - - - **

** \- - - - - - **

So, it all started with the ring in the pawnshop window, but it ended with Dean and his angel living happily ever after.

And you know what? As far as I’m concerned, that’s the best kind of story there is.


End file.
